


Vow of the Queensguard

by Trins_xxx



Series: Tales of Queens [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Forced Marriage, Innocent Regina, Lecherous Leopold, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Other, Pre-Regina's First Dark Curse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spoilt Snow, Unrequited Love, Young Evil Queen | Regina Mills, marital rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5191016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trins_xxx/pseuds/Trins_xxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a girl, a reluctant queen, who succumbed to the evil surrounding her. There was a man, a loving father but a cruel husband. There was a princess who knew good and evil but none of the shades between them. This story isn't about them, It's about the guards who watched over them and saw a family fall apart and a kingdom destroyed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning before you start reading this - the story will be dark and will contain references and implications of non-con/marital rape, etc. Regina's marriage was a forced wedding and therefore she will be treated as an unwilling partner. However, the details will NOT be gratuitous and further, more explicit warnings will be present at the start of the chapters.
> 
> Having said all that, whilst there will undoubtedly be focus on Regina and Snow and Leopold, this story is actually about the Kingsguard, later the Queensguard - they all have characters and stories and families fleshed out. And I am seriously loving writing about them, so I hope you enjoy reading about them too.

'Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.'

~ Mark Twain ~

Sir Gareth had known, of course Sir Gareth had known. The oldest member of the Kingsguard and the only person to have been guarding the family when the current king had been born, there was nothing about the family that he didn't know, and it shouldn't have surprised Sir Beda but it had. Regardless, Sir Beda turned his blue eyes, still sharp and shrewd despite his years, to his right where Sir Gareth was seemingly focussed on shoving spoonfuls of gruel into his mouth.

'So are the rumours true? Is the king marrying once again?' Sir Haerviu was looking eagerly from one knight to the other. Latest of the knights to join the Kingsguard, he was a child with barely two dozen summers behind him, had never been to battle and had never witnessed bloodshed. It was a mystery to Sir Beda why the king had added him to the Kingsguard. His immaturity never shone so bright as right now, clearly anticipating a joyous marriage rather than one which had more hurdles at the start than most. And unstable, unhappy royal families made for unstable, unhappy kingdoms.

Ser Gareth paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. He turned his eyes, once a deep blue but now faded to an indeterminate grey, glaring at the hapless new guard. The smile slipped off the child's face and his green eyes widened a fraction, only looking away once Sir Gareth was focussed on filling his stomach again. Sir Beda hid his smile; the poor child had no idea of what being a member of the Kingsguard would involve.

It wasn't till later that Sir Beda raised the same topic. Alone in the bedchambers that he shared with Sir Gareth, he asked bluntly, 'You are concerned about this impending marriage?'

'As are you,' had grunted Sir Gareth, his scarred face showing few emotions but the two of them were the oldest members of the Kingsguard. They had spent decades fighting side by side and there was no other who knew him as well as Sir Gareth did, and vice versa.

'You think the woman is after power? You think she will be a threat to Princess Snow or the kingdom?'

'I worry she _isn't_ after the power and the king is threat enough to the kingdom,' the knight had retorted sharply, his words practically a snarl as he undid the metal armour surrounding his chest. Sir Beda didn't have the fastest of reflexes or the greatest accuracy. His fitness was declining but what he did have was a certain sense of timing. Rumours and myths said that once a person gave up their families and identities to become a member of the Kingsguard, the kingdom they were meant to guard with their lives would imbibe them with powers, nothing as startling as the magic most witches and warlocks wielded but a magical strengthening of their natural abilities, and Beda often thought that, for him, it was his sense of timing. It had won battles and skirmishes in the past, that inherent knowledge of when something was going to happen, and it was those senses that told him now to keep mum and shut up.

'His father had many vices but he was not as great a fool as the king,' Sir Gareth spoke, and Beda could recall rumours of orgies and debauchery, of alcohol drank far too much and far too regularly. 'Nor was he unmindful of his duty to his people.'

'A young bride could help him, improve him,' Beda suggested softly, not convinced of his own words.

'He is far too old and set in his ways to learn any new tricks,' the grey eyed and grey haired man had snapped back and there was something there, underneath his voice that gave Beda chills. 'She's a good hearted girl, and not just for show. It'll be luck if she manages to pass on any of that consideration, kindliness to the princess before she becomes as spoilt as Leopald.'

Beda cast his eyes around the room. The words were becoming treacherously close to sounding like treason and whilst there was much Sir Gareth could and had gotten away with, there were some lines that were forbidden, even to him.

'It's a pity she isn't ugly,' Sir Gareth muttered and Beda raised his eyebrows at that. 'I saw her, when the king proposed. She's a beautiful little thing, dark hair, beautiful dark eyes, pale skin...'

'Just like Eva,' Beda breathed out, feeling sick to his stomach as his eyes met that of his friend.

'And she's a handful of years older than the Princess.'

'He just wants a mother for his daughter,' again, Beda's words lacked any conviction. Sir Gareth merely snorted at the suggestion.

'She's younger than the Haerviu idiot,' he said after a beat, and didn't that sum up the entire monstrosity of the wedding about to take place? How could a girl play mother if she was barely more than a child herself?

'She seems caring. And she cannot be as stupid as the king we have been cursed with, so there might be hope for the kingdom yet,' Sir Gareth grunted out before resolutely turning in his bed to face the wall and presumably sleeping. Beda fell asleep too, but his dreams were plagued by the Battles of the Western Mountains, where the less trained soldiers had run amuck, raping any woman or girl they came across and in his dreams, the faces of all those dastardly soldiers was the face of the king and all those raped bore the face of the young queen-to-be. When he awoke, his bad mood perfectly matched that of his friend and the scowl didn't leave his face for more than a week.

They had no contact with the bride-to-be after that, and Beda wondered how much of that was Sir Gareth's doing. The offering of the protection of the Kingsguard for those about to marry into the royal family had always been optional but maybe the lack of protection offered to the little girl (little woman?) said just as much about how the king felt about her. It did nothing to quieten their fears and only served to make Sir Gareth grumpier than he was wont to be. The guards only ventured forth when the Princess was to be with the bride and she appeared more preoccupied with her clothes and her hair and how she wanted the wedding to be... It left a taste of ashes in both their mouths.

It's the night before the wedding that found Sir Haerviu knocking urgently on their door, his partner, Sir Aédan standing beside him. Sir Haerviu was pale, his green eyes and red hair in stark contrast to his skin, with a greenish tinge to his face that made Beda's hands itch to reach for a basket just in case.

'She's younger than me,' he said without preamble, and there's something akin to shock, maybe a touch of horror in his eyes.

'And she does not wish to marry the king,' Sir Aedan the Patient's low timbre adds. Silence surrounds them for a moment before Sir Aedan speaks again, his voice slow and each word carefully weighted, in keeping with his moniker. 'She came to him, begging him to call the wedding off-'

'She was in tears,' Sir Haerviu added, his youthful voice trembling.

'The king said,' and for the first time, Sir Aedan lets fall his passive mask, showing a disturbed countenance. 'He said that Snow needs a mother, wants her as a mother... She hasn't seen twenty summers yet and he wants the child to play mother to his daughter?'

The silence around them is filled with tension and unease, all eyes focussed on Sir Gareth, the head of the Kingsguard. 'The king is selfish. He cares for naught but himself and his child.' There's no murmur of disagreement and Beda wants to open his lips, utter words of caution that this is venturing into the treason territory but the words are too true. And the origin of the Kingsguard was to protect the kingdom, protecting it from their leaders if necessary. 'She's got a good heart, and she's not stupid. We could train her, teach her to be the Queen the kingdom deserves.'

'And you think the king will allow his little bride to rule in his name?' Sir Aedan asked the question nobody in the room wanted to.

'I think there might come a time when he is far too toxic and dangerous to be allowed to rule. But that decision must be amongst us, and must be unanimous. And when that day comes, we shall rid of him as we must and aid the queen in doing as she must. For the good of the kingdom.'

There's no murmur of agreement; there's only silence but it's damning in the lack of any disagreement and Beda knows that their words, choices, will change the history of the kingdom. He just hopes it's for the better.

* * *

 

It's raining on the day of the wedding and all of the Kingsguard are present, wearing grey cloaks with King Leopold's insigne garishly sewn on. It's less for protection, more of a nasty mixture of blind tradition and a show of power. The newly married Regina, Queen Consort, looks a vision in white, but when she forgets to smile, she looks like a frightened child.

It hadn't taken long for Sir Haerviu to take place near to her. He flashed smiles at her that she struggled to return, muttered salacious details about all the nobles who grovel before her. She gives more genuine smiles at those but the frightened child in the fluffy white dress and jewels too heavy for her age remain, despite it all.

The night wore on, as did the celebrations. The king drank wine happily and heavily, the queen barely touched hers. The princess sat chatting to anyone who would listen, but her preferred spot was by her new stepmother, oblivious to the large frightened eyes, the knuckles that whitened as pale as the dress her hands clutched but Snow, too, was eventually sent off to bed. The bride's mother bid her goodbye, the smile tender and the touch loving as she left but her father was the one with tears in his eyes and leaking unashamedly down his face as he held her tightly to his chest. It was long minutes before he so reluctantly let her go.

The wedding night was to take place, and the little queen's colour seemed to pale even further. As she was led by the ladies to the room, the king followed her and it wasn't hard to notice the way his eyes followed the young bride. They entered the chambers and the doors shut behind them, the babble from the lords and ladies overpowering. Sir Beda and Sir Gareth stood outside the door, forcing their ears deaf to the voices outside as well as within the chambers.

'We might be wrong about the girl,' Beda's voice whispered across to Sir Gareth.

'Yes,' Sir Gareth agreed, scowling at the drunken lords that loitered. Their words were vulgar, talking about a girl that was the same age as their children but that didn't deter them. 'We will protect the kingdom from all threats.' His words drifted back to Beda. 'We'll protect the kingdom from the king and if the queen or the princess threatens it, we'll protect it from them too.' They stood with straight backs and deaf ears, ignoring the sounds from within the bedchambers, and when the king exited the chambers the following morning they refused to look him in the eyes.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Sir Gareth scowls some more, but surprisingly, so does Beda, Haerviu talks about his numerous sisters, Regina cries, and we meet the twins, who totally kick Sigurd's arse... Don't worry... You'll know who they are soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding night activities not mentioned or alluded to except in Regina's reactions.

 

'Love recognises no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.'

~ _Maya Angelou_ ~

 

It's raining on the day of the wedding and all of the Kingsguard are present, wearing grey cloaks with King Leopold's insigne garishly sewn on. It's less for protection, more of a nasty mixture of blind tradition and a show of power. The newly married Regina, Queen Consort, looks a vision in white, but when she forgets to smile, she looks like a frightened child.

 

It hadn't taken long for Sir Haerviu to take place near to her. He flashed smiles at her that she struggled to return, muttered salacious details about all the nobles who grovel before her. She gives more genuine smiles at those but the frightened child in the fluffy white dress and jewels too heavy for her age remain, despite it all.

 

The night wore on, as did the celebrations. The king drank wine happily and heavily, the queen barely touched hers. The princess sat chatting to anyone who would listen, but her preferred spot was by her new stepmother, oblivious to the large frightened eyes, the knuckles that whitened as pale as the dress her hands clutched but Snow, too, was eventually sent off to bed. The bride's mother bid her goodbye, the smile tender and the touch loving as she left but her father was the one with tears in his eyes and leaking unashamedly down his face as he held her tightly to his chest. It was long minutes before he so reluctantly let her go.

 

The wedding night was to take place, and the little queen's colour seemed to pale even further. As she was led by the ladies to the room, the king followed her and it wasn't hard to notice the way his eyes followed the young bride. They entered the chambers and the doors shut behind them, the babble from the lords and ladies overpowering. Sir Beda and Sir Gareth stood outside the door, forcing their ears deaf to the voices outside as well as within the chambers.

 

'We might be wrong about the girl,' Beda's voice whispered across to Sir Gareth.

 

'Yes,' Sir Gareth agreed, scowling at the drunken lords that loitered. Their words were vulgar, talking about a girl that was the same age as their children but that didn't deter them. 'We will protect the kingdom from all threats.' His words drifted back to Beda. 'We'll protect the kingdom from the king and if the queen or the princess threatens it, we'll protect it from them too.' They stood with straight backs and deaf ears, ignoring the sounds from within the bedchambers, and when the king exited the chambers the following morning they refused to look him in the eyes.

* * *

 

'She's still crying,' Sir Beda's anguished whisper held an abundance of bewilderment and horror. He wasn't sure when (most likely years ago) but he had come to rely on Sir Gareth for strength and guidance in the hardest of times. Seeking this when he turned to look at Sir Gareth, it was something more than disappointment he felt when he saw the same wide-eyed panicked expression.

 

'What do we do with a crying girl?' Gareth whispered back the question, his wide eyes flicking to the bedroom door and back. They could both hear the sobs, the kind that screamed of heartbreak and left the body shaking and left those within the vicinity uncomfortable. She couldn't hear their words but nevertheless, they whispered. There had been silence after the grunting and silent it had remained until the king had left the chambers for food earlier that morning. The moment he had left, the sobs had started and had yet to cease.

 

In the quiet of the corridor, the footsteps resonated loudly and both pairs of eyes were on the corner as Sir Haerviu and Sir Aedan rounded the corner.

 

'We did not see the Queen at breakfast,' Sir Aedan started diplomatically before Sir Haerviu scoffed and asked bluntly how the little queen was doing. Their lips thinned as they approached her door and the sobs became audible.

 

'What did she say when you talked to her?' At the blank expressions, Sir Haerviu heaved a sigh of longsuffering. 'Are you telling me that you've left the poor girl crying in there? And haven't said a word to her?' The identical scowls on the two old men grew with each word. 'It's probably just as well,' he muttered quietly before answering their questioning looks. 'You all look old and powerful. I'm her age and I look pretty harmless,' he shrugged deprecatingly. 'She'll probably be a lot less scared of someone like me.' He knocked and entered the room, missing the look of consternation mingled with guilt on Sir Gareth's face.

 

It was neither the knocks, nor the creaking door or his footsteps that alerted the queen to his presence. It was the loud noise made by the heavy oak door slamming shut against the stone walls that startled her, scrambling ineffectively away before she recognised him and stilled. If it irked him to realise how innocuous she perceived him to be, he didn't let it show.

 

'It's just me, Haerviu,' he said, hands held up in front disarmingly. 'I came to see how you were feeling when I saw you were not present for breakfast.' He bit back another sigh as he saw the queen make no move to speak. Rather, her lips thinned against each other, forming a firm line of resistance. 'I mean you no harm,' he said earnestly, facing her as openly as he could. 'I know it must be... _distasteful_...to be married to such an old man,' he gauged her reaction carefully, noting the widening eyes brimming with fresh tears and old suspicion, the trembling hands clutching at her bedclothes and the lips that stayed firmly in a thin line. Good, the girl _wasn't_ an idiot. 'I shan't relay anything you tell me, my queen,' he murmured without conscious thought. 'I shall never bring hurt to you, I don't know how to make you believe me.'

 

By now, he had reached the foot of the bed and facing down at her, he realised just how much at his mercy she was, this tiny slip of a girl, dwarfed by the large bed, the large bedclothes and the large man before her. If he wanted, he could have his way with her and he was almost certain the child would be too frightened to tell her husband. His eyes found hers again and the thought faded from his mind. Another took its place, a gamble he wasn't sure he wouldn't regret.

 

'You remind me of my sisters,' he said softly. It wasn't completely false. For all that his sisters each had hair different shades of sunset and eyes varying shades of green, there was something in the queen's face that _did_ remind him of his sisters, and younger brother too – though he would never dare to utter the latter comparison. It was maybe in the rounded cheeks common to all children, the fat so adept at hiding the delicate bones beneath, that adult life had not yet stolen.

 

'Sisters?' The word broke the silence.

 

'Yes,' he answered cautiously.

 

'As in plural? How many do you have?' He hadn't expected an interrogation. Not that he was looking forward to it, but he had expected maybe a breakdown, a heartfelt talk, confessions and comfort and certainly tears. As he watched her, her bright eyes seemed to lose their moisture, the trails the tears had left behind barely visible. Within a matter of seconds, all that remained was a red nose and reddened eyes. It was impressive to watch and it didn't appear to require effort. With an internal shake, he focused his mind on the question at hand.

 

'Pardon?' There was visible mistrust in her entire body as she repeated the question. 'Three,' he replied. 'And two brothers.'

 

'Six brothers and sister in total?' Her dark eyes were wide again but he was pleased to see no distress there. It had turned his stomach, to see a girl suffering in such a manner, and especially caused by her husband and king. There should be rules outlawing such things, he thinks, but pushing his own discomfort aside, he answers the questions besieging him one by one. He doesn't quite understand her interest in his family, speculates that perhaps it is impertinence common to the richer nobility but it is only when he is shutting his eyes for sleep that night that he realises the poor girl was maybe just trying to divert her mind away from her circumstances, by whichever means possible.

 

At the time, he answered her questions humorously, a little truth and a few white lies giving his stories rich colour. His payment was in the smiles, tentative like the flutters of a butterfly. It warmed him from the inside out in a way that nothing else had in the course of his short life. It was the necessity of emptying his bladder that ended their téte á téte and when he'd told her as much, he'd felt oddly elated with a feeling he couldn't quite identify as he saw the light-hearted way she scrunched up her nose, with none of the tears or trembling from earlier. He left with a self-satisfied smile, which had swiftly slipped away when he saw the disapproving looks on the faces of the three guards standing outside.

 

Sir Gareth looked much like he always did, with his usual scowl gracing his face. It was Beda that looked unusually dour but it was Aedan who followed him to the privy, admonishing him softly enough to barely be heard. He followed him inside the privy, eyes focused firmly on Haerviu's face as the lad relieved himself, and continued to admonish him as he made way back the queen's chambers, only to blink owlishly as four figures instead of two came into view.

 

It was with relief that he identified the four knights devoted to guarding the princess for the day. Better to be slightly blind than going mad, he thinks. It's a cheerful welcome he offers to the newly arrived guards, much of his cheer coming from Aedan's ceasefire on the criticisms. He even manages a grimace that's almost a smile for the black haired and black eyed Sigurd, who had his usual slimy smirk in please. There was a certain exhaustion common to all four of the guards, most likely related to guarding a child. Even though metres away from the chamber with the doors closed, he could hear the hum as she talked to the queen and not for the first time, he felt the deepest of sympathies for the bride.

 

'Haerviu,' Sir Trygve grunted more than spoke, though speech itself was a miracle for the man rumoured to have had his tongue cut out as a babe of no more than two seasons age.

 

'How goes the princess?' The redhead asks, though he need not. The door and walls were thick enough to muffle her words, but it was easy to discern the discontent in Snow's tone.

 

'The Princess missed her,' he replied, his face softening as much as it could with the harsh, cruel scar running down his face. His black eyes pierced into his. 'You talked to the queen?'

He shrugged deprecatingly, not answering the question or Sigurd's goading look. Let them think of it what they will. He instead asked his own question. 'What does she want with the Queen?'

 

It's Sigurd that answered with a snort. His thin lips seem even thinner as he spoke. 'To play with her, to dress her like a doll, to move her arms and legs as she would a puppet, who knows what goes on in that head full of wool of hers,' his words were biting but Haerviu never found himself in more agreement with the bastard. 'Care to duel?' He asked Haerviu, face full of mockery. 'That might distract the princess enough to give the queen some peace, unless you would rather leave her to the child's mercy?'

 

'We shall duel you unless...'

 

Odd completed the sentence his twin brother, Jornmurek, had started. 'You're too cowardly to duel against two instead of one.' Their thick lips split into smiles that were as sharp as the tips of their spears, dark eyes glittering with malicious intent.

 

To the credit of Sigurd, his smirk didn't fade with his colour.

'I'd hate to disappoint the princess,' came his suave reply, along with swift knocks on the door.

 

'Princess, how would you like to watch a battle amongst the greatest warrior in the kingdom against two others?'

 

Snow's ever ready smile lit her face and she even clasped her hands together. 'Oh, how very exciting,' her eyes glittered with the sunlight coming through the window. 'Regina and I would love to see you battle.'

 

He didn't have to look at the queen to see her droop. 'But maybe two such beautiful girls would be a distraction?' He wonders if the little princess even picks up on the words – there's no evidence to suggest it. 'Perhaps we should let the queen get some rest for now,' he suggests, his hands already on little Snow's back, urging her off the bed.

 

'But she's already slept so much,' Sigurd highly doubts the queen actually gained any sleep overnight; it was far more likely she spent the night still as a statue, stiff with fright. 'Mother never needed to sleep so much and she always enjoyed battles,' Snow pouts and her eyes are wide, like a doe's but Sigurd was never one to distress himself over hunting animals and such parlour tricks won't work on him.

'Perhaps, but your mother had years before your birth to get used to the lifestyle, why don't we give the queen a few days at least?' He's moved himself between Snow and the queen, gently but surely herding her out and, just like an animal, she doesn't seem aware of it.

 

'Are you _sure_ , Regina? It's very exciting and mother always loved it. I'm sure you'd love it, too,' Snow pleads and pleads, her eyes as wide as they'll go, imploring but to no avail. Regina smiles weakly, a travesty of an attempt but the princess doesn't seem to notice.

 

'I'll join you next time, dear,' her voice is soothing in its warmth, her eyes the complete opposite. 'I'm afraid I'm not feeling so well. Just a headache,' she adds hurriedly, seeing the fear wash over Snow's face, 'And I'm sure a little sleep is all I need.'

 

Pouting and reluctant, Snow is marched out of the queen's chambers, a triumphant smirk on his face. He leaves Haerviu and Aedan guarding the queen's chambers, awaiting Sirs Beda and Gareth to resume their duties – it's highly unlikely they could protect her from what actually hurts her, fealty and treason. The smirk falls away within minutes of the duel starting, the twins thoroughly defeating him. Unfair numbers, he thinks but he knows that their skills far surpass his. It's good sparring practice, even if the king prefers a more cowardly approach to ruling his kingdom. It's better to be prepared, so he rises from the ground and spars again, the princess clapping as she watches on with entertainment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am absolutely loving Sigurd and his antagonism of Haerviu and their somewhat apathy will be explained. Eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Tell me what you think about the characters and what you think their backgrounds might be and whatnot.


End file.
